


i want us both to eat well

by peanutbutterbunny



Category: IT (1990), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier in the 1990s, Frottage, Homoerotic orange experiences, M/M, Mentions of Late Night with Johnny Carson, Not Beta Read, first fic, i don't know what to tag this as it's just porn yall, inspired completely by the fact that i cried my eyeballs out watching the miniseries, it's after derry and they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterbunny/pseuds/peanutbutterbunny
Summary: Isn’t that just the cat’s pajamas, the cat’s whole damn wardrobe, watching his man watch a late night show in his boxers, orange peels scattered on the coffee table in front of them, that goddamned juice sliding down his wrists and why in God’s name did he have to look so good in the glow off the TV set?xxxMy first fic ever! Feedback is greatly appreciated!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	i want us both to eat well

Eddie is eating an orange.

Not a problem, when it’s worded like that. Eddie likes oranges. Since he moved in with Richie, there’s always been a bowl full of them on their dining room table. _They’re good snacks_ , Richie thinks nonsensically, eyes zeroed in on the juice that’s gathered on Eddie’s lower lip, _full of vitamin C and potassium_. When they were kids, they’d eat tangerines and clementines and mandarins, sitting on the railing of Bill’s porch, letting the peels fall from their fingers and into the grass. Eddie would peel off a slice, trying to toss it into Richie’s open mouth, always giggling too hard to be any good at it. Richie thrived under the attention, preening like a dog being fed treats for its tricks, intentionally missing whenever Eddie’s aim got too close, wanting to keep the focus on him for a bit longer. Eddie’s hands (and Richie’s chin, shirt, and sometimes his cheeks, too), would be sticky from the juice, and Eddie would insist upon dragging him inside to wash up.

Now, however. Eddie’s hands are very sticky. And his attention isn’t on Richie, it’s on Johnny Carson, a small snort or guffaw erupting from him along with the audience. And isn’t that just the cat’s pajamas, the cat’s whole damn wardrobe, watching his man watch a late night show in his boxers, orange peels scattered on the coffee table in front of them, that goddamned juice sliding down his wrists and why in _God’s_ name did he have to look so good in the glow off the TV set?

“Cmon, Eds, I’m funnier than those guys.” Richie finally broke, moving so he was pressed against his side, index finger and thumb tilting Eddie’s chin to look up at him. The blonde blinked up at him, adoration and delight shining from his eyes, buzzing with anticipation of the next joke, the next round of give and take. Richie grinned helplessly down at him, waggling his chin a bit before leaning in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “What are you chuckling over them for, when you live with _the_ Richard Tozier, Man of a Thousand Voices?” Another kiss, slightly less coordinated, as half of the parties involved had let out a quiet chuckle.  
“Use a Voice, then, if you’ve got a thousand.” Eddie challenged with a quirk of his lips, popping the last slice of orange into his mouth. Richie let out an exaggerated growl, turning it into a 'woof' at the last second.  
“You really drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice was mumbled, the need to speak out loud nullified by the fact they now shared the same breath. Eddie’s cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink, and he shifted more towards Richie. With the TV now successfully background noise, Richie plowed on, pressing kiss after delicate kiss along Eddie’s cheeks, his jaw, the side of his neck.  
“You and your late night snacks. I’ve been jealous of a _citrus_ for the past fifteen minutes. Do you gotta eat ‘em so that all of it dribbles down like that?” He traced his fingers down Eddie’s wrists and chest, mimicking the path his eyes had been so focused on just a few moments ago. Eddie let out a breathless laugh, shifting so that Richie lay between his legs, his head pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck.  
“I can’t help it, you know that they can get messy.” He defended, his fingers finding their way into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck. “Not my fault you get worked up so-- _oh_ , Richie, don’t bite, you know I have work in the morning.” The last of his sentence was gasped rather than spoken, his hands tugging at Richie’s hair as if in reprimand. Richie licked over the bite in apology, giving a low hum.

“That’s another thing. Why work when you could stay home, looking like this? Every Hollywood star’s got a pool boy. We’ll get you a uniform that really shows off the goods, what do you say?” He raised his head to waggle his eyebrows, only to get an unimpressed look for his troubles. “Aw, c’mon! Little swim trunks, some sunglasses. Say, Eds, come rub some suntan lotion on me. That’s right, all over, _really_ make sure you get in there.” He teased, sliding his hands up Eddie’s bare sides. “You do mine, I’ll do yours. A real nice quid for your quo.” Eddie giggled as his fingers caught at a sensitive area along his ribcage, arching his back as he squirmed under the touch.  
“Hush, you know my work’s important to me. I’ll be your pool boy on weekends, if the pay’s any good.” His was voice now a suggestive murmur as Richie returned to his original task of, apparently, licking orange juice off his neck, though he had his own private doubts that there was really any there to begin with.  
“Mmm, sorry, dollface. A bit short on cash right now, but I bet we can discuss _other_ forms of payment.” A roll of Richie’s hips showed what other means he was willing to pay by, Eddie shuddering beneath him at the movement, legs spreading a fraction wider.

  
“Oh, I-- I’m sure we’ll work something out.” He rushed out, tugging Richie’s hair to get him to lift from his neck. “Rich, really, no marks, I mean it.” Eddie mumbled, already pressing a kiss into his mouth. Their mouths were already open, Eddie’s from speaking, and Richie ready to give a retort that died in his throat. The kiss was deep to begin with, a low simmering heat slowly dripping through the both of them until they were lit up from the top of their scalp down to their toes. Richie’s tongue met Eddie’s, and his heart jumped haphazardly at the whine this pulled out of the blonde. He answered it with his own groan, a hand shooting up to tangle in the yellow curls, tightening and tugging sharply. Eddie let out a sharp whine, eyes squeezing tight as his own fingertips dug into Richie’s shoulders. He thrust his hips up, once and twice and then again, each time making his toes curl, a ragged moan falling from Richie’s mouth at every movement.  
“Love when you know what makes you feel good. Love when it’s me, Eddie, baby, wanna make you feel good.” Richie mumbled into his mouth, half his overheated mind thinking, _I need him to **know** , I need the thought to be inside him_, the other half focusing on grinding down against him.  
Eddie whined, arms wrapping around his shoulders, trying to get them closer. “You do, honey, of course you do, make me feel so good, every day, c’mon, give it to me a little more, lover, keep going.” Richie laughed breathlessly against his cheek, pressing a sloppy kiss there as he sped up, hands moving to grip at his hips.  
“I’ll give it to you a bit later, honey, this is just the amuse bouche.” Eddie giggled, still one of the sweetest sounds Richie’s ever heard, sweeter than birdsong, the sound of the weatherman saying there was too much snow to drive to work or school, sweeter than the timer of the oven going off when you baked a batch of cookies.  
“You’ll give it to me later? I’m turning in when Carson’s done, there’s no way I’ll be able to go again. I’m already getting close. Oh, _fuck_ , Rich, I said-- no, no, do it again, _please_.” Richie had sunk his teeth into the side of his neck, sucking harshly. Eddie’s whines got louder, climbing up an octave, and Richie felt as though he were about to burst. _That’s my man, I’m making him sound like that._ He slid a hand between them, gripping Eddie’s length through his boxers.  
“C’mon, baby, show me that I make you feel good. Make me proud.” He huffed, voice low in Eddie’s ear. He squeezed the head through the fabric, ecstatic delight filling him as he remembered, yet again, who exactly it was that he was touching. He moved his hand up, down, up, and then-- Eddie’s head dropped back against the arm of the sofa, a shuddering moan of Richie’s name pulled from his lips. Richie released his grip, hands once again finding their place at his hips as he thrust furiously against Eddie. Eddie’s legs came up to wrap tightly around his waist, and they clung to each other, sweat-sticky and orange scented.  
“Oh, Rich, that’s it, feels so much, cmon, give it to me.” He begged, oversensitive and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Richie scrambled, on some impulse, tugging his briefs just partway down his sides. He rolled his hips again and again, holding Eddie tightly against him. He let out a loud groan, feeling it shake through his chest, cum painting Eddie’s boxers and stomach. He held still, both of them catching their breath, shaking. The sound of canned laughter from the TV brought them both back, blinking owlishly at each other. Eddie grinned, hair damp and plastered against his forehead.

  
“Satisfied I paid enough attention to you, Man of a Thousand Voices?” He teased, letting his hands drop from Richie’s shoulders to stretch. Richie beamed, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.  
“I think so, Spaghetti head. Though maybe we should clean up.” Eddie scrunched his nose, nodding and pushing at Richie’s chest until he could stand on shaky legs.  
“This wasn’t really what I had in mind when I was telling you to give it to me, although I suppose I can’t complain.” Richie flushed, tugging his briefs back up, following to join Eddie in the shower.  
“It was an instinct! I had to give you something, didn’t I?” He called after him, a besotted smile as he heard Eddie laugh from down the hall. Richie eagerly shuffled after him. If he played his cards right, maybe they’d get a chance for a quickie in the morning.


End file.
